


Ghost

by fuckthenaysayers



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckthenaysayers/pseuds/fuckthenaysayers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ah well, mm, that’s because of the… The hauntings. Supposedly this house is haunted, or that’s what the past couple of owners have told me. But I find it ridiculous, I even researched and no one has died in this house! Surely a big tough man like you wouldn’t be frightened by a little ghost anyway, right?"</p><p>Dan chuckled, his face flushing easily at the offhanded praise.</p><p>"Not at all. I’d welcome some company in fact. I’ll take it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was perfect. A tiny little townhouse fit for a single person or perhaps a couple. One bed, one bath, a kitchen and dining area and a living room, along with a second small room that was the perfect size for a study. It was too good to be true at the price the realtor was offering, but it was tempting enough to keep Dan wandering it for a good hour oohing and ahhing over all it had to offer.

"This place is fantastic! But I have to ask, why is it so cheap?"

The realtor, a young woman, jolted and put up as sweet of a face as she could.

"Ah well, mm, that’s because of the… The hauntings. Supposedly this house is haunted, or that’s what the past couple of owners have told me. But I find it ridiculous, I even researched and no one has died in this house! Surely a big tough man like you wouldn’t be frightened by a little ghost anyway, right?"

Dan chuckled, his face flushing easily at the offhanded praise.

"Not at all. I’d welcome some company in fact. I’ll take it."

He had been joking about the company, but he wasn’t one to be very superstitious so the idea of living in a haunted house didn’t bother him in the slightest. So he bought it without any hesitation, and after about a month was ready to move in. With the help of a few friends he got all of his things moved in by just a day, though most stayed unpacked, only his nightly essentials and bed things unpacked so he could sleep.

With his teeth brushed and bed made, he flopped onto it, tired out from the day full of carrying his heavy boxes around. He fell asleep almost immediately, and began to dream.

 

Dan looked around curiously, surprised to find himself right outside of his new home. Shrugging, he headed inside, stopping short as he was immediately greeted by different scenery. The set up inside was different, and fully furnished. Nothing was recognizable. He stepped in slowly, unsure, shutting the door behind himself and began scanning the shelves for anything familiar.

Nothing really clicked with him, eyes wandering over books and video game cases and DVDs, all piled here and there in the entertainment stand. His eyes caught on something, a picture. He picked it up and looked it over. It was a family photo, a mother and father and three sons of varying ages. But what really drew his attention was the one who seemed the youngest, scowling at the camera while all his family as least feigned a smile for the picture.

He had curly brown hair and pale skin, a smattering of freckles on what skin could be seen, most of his body swimming in a hoodie which was almost certainly a hand-me-down considering its size. Setting it down, Dan continued to scrutinize every little trinket he came across, confusion rising as not a single thing felt familiar in the slightest. He searched the living room and kitchen, before heading down the hall and opening the door to the study. 

Someone was inside, a young man with curly brown hair and pale skin, almost deathly pale. He was in some sort of work uniform, a deep gray fullbody suit half-zipped, the sleeves tied around his waist, a black tank covering his chest. He was on the computer, eyes glued to it, Dan noticed then that he had glasses on, but it looked like they were slightly cracked. 

"Um..."

Dan started but trailed off instantly, unsure what to say. The man turned to him instantly, looking almost like an angry cat, his shoulders hunching and features scrunching to a furious look immediately.

"What are you doing here?!"

The Brit was put off even more than before by the clearly American accent the other had. He had a good look at his face now, freckles and brown eyes behind cracked lenses, Dan was immediately reminded of the young boy in the picture. It must've been him years ago, that made sense. 

"I-I don't..."

"What are you doing in my house?!"

The man seemed to fly over, his face in front of Dan's immediately, but it had turned grotesque, eyes turning black and features exaggerating to a demonic level. Dan screamed and backed up, hitting the wall.

Dan woke up with a start, his body jolting and heart racing. Eyes wide open, he stared at the blackness surrounding him, chest heaving as he panted, trying to catch his breath. Outstretching one arm, he grasped about until he found his phone on the nightstand, clutching it and unlocking it. The dim glow of the screen was enough to settle him down, relaxing almost instantly at the familiarity of it, enough to settle his nerves at least somewhat. 

A glance at the top told him it was only a bit past midnight, and he sighed tiredly, sitting up and fumbling his way to the light. The top light was bright and a bit painful but it was better than sitting in the dark. He sat on his bed for a few minutes, trying to get his thoughts in order. Who was that man? What was that man? What house was that? Why did it look like his outwardly but inside was someone else's? 

"A ghost."

The words slipped from his mouth without thought, catching himself in surprise. He chuckled at his own suggestion, shaking his head at the very possibility.

"I'm such a nutter. The realtor must've gotten that haunted thing stuck in my head."

Mumbling to himself didn't help him be any less of a nutter but he felt less frightened speaking out loud. Getting up, he fixed himself a cup of tea and stayed up until he couldn't any longer, passing out and sleeping without dreaming, much to his relief.

\---

 

The next morning came too soon for Dan, the man hiding under the covers from the light that shone in, windows yet to be covered with curtains. He slept till ten, groggily getting up then and making himself some instant coffee, yet to set up most of his appliances and too sleepy to go fishing in boxes for them just yet. 

As his kettle began to whistle, Dan reached for it, slipping it off the hot burner and grabbing for the mug he'd used last night. Slight confusion swept over him as he didn't see it in the sink, sure he'd left it there after giving it a quick rinse after last night's tea. He searched the kitchen, finding it in one of the cabinets on its own. Strange, but maybe he'd put it there in a haze of sleep last night. 

Thinking nothing more of it, he filled his glasses and made his instant coffee, having a couple cups before getting to work slowly turning the house into his own. He worked with the kitchen first, filling the cupboards and drawers with his plates and cups, utensils and a few dry foodstuffs he brought with him. Appliances were next and after a couple hours it actually felt like a proper kitchen. Next was the bathroom, far quicker, he finished in less than a half hour.

The last three rooms wouldn't be as easy, so he left them for now, opting to head out to the corner market and pick up some essentials. He got enough food for the next couple of days and some toiletries, heading back home with them along with chinese take away from the shop next to the market. Once back, he ate while setting up his laptop, his internet already set up before he'd moved in so he could use it instantly. It would've gone a bit smoother had he recalled where he put the mouse, he'd sworn he'd put it just on top of the laptop but it was nowhere to be seen. After some searching through the boxes labeled for the study he ended up finding it in the bathroom on the sink counter, much to his confusion. 

Days passed and it felt like he was constantly losing his mind, things would go missing and turn up in the most random of places, and he had no recollection of putting them there. Maybe paranoia was setting in but he felt like he'd started hearing noises too, quiet bumps and shuffling during the night or just when he got home from somewhere, like something was rushing off to hide.

The strangest thing of all though, was the dreams. Ever since the first night there, with that terrifying dream of the weird curly-haired man who screamed at him, he'd been having a recurring similar dream. It was always him at the house, it'd seem nice and normal for a little while until he caught sight of the man again, sometimes in the kitchen or the study, he'd even once opened the door and saw him right at the couch.

Anger set in quickly and the man would shout at him, cursing and telling him to leave, get out. His voice would go strange and he did almost anything he could to be terrifying, so much that it was starting to almost not be. After a couple weeks of the dreams Dan stopped getting scared, and tried talking to the man. Which only resulted in a frustrated scream and attack, always jolting him awake.

He didn't know what any of it meant, too confused and embarrassed over his own fears to try discussing it with anyone, so he stayed quiet. Kept it in. Maybe one day he'd get the curly-haired man to talk and then he'd understand, but till then he'd just do what always kept him from dreaming; getting drunk.

With the prodding of some friends he went out one Friday night, not coming back until it was reasonably late and he was unreasonably drunk. Stumbling into his house, he swayed his way to his room, flopping onto the bed fully clothed, even still in his shoes, and fell asleep. It was around three in the morning when he woke up a bit, his body waking him for reasons he couldn't really identify. 

As he opened his eyes he could make out something in front of his field of vision. A sheet. A white sheet, strewn over what looked to be a person crouched down next to the bed, hiding childishly. A sleep-heavy arm slowly reached out and grabbed the sheet, pulling it. As it fell to the floor he could just slightly make out the outline of a person. It was thin and almost transparent, but one thing he saw for sure; it had curly hair.

Just as suddenly as he'd woken up, his body willed him back to sleep, falling back into a dreamless sleep with only a slight chance of remembering what he'd seen once he woke up properly. Perhaps it'd help that he still clutched the sheet in one hand, the only evidence of what could've been either a paranormal experience, or simply a drunken hallucination.


	2. Chapter 2

It was different, but it was home. Sort of. It was sort of empty, and plain, none of his things were there. But the set up was right, it felt familiar enough for him to be happy. So it was home. For now. He stayed there as long as he liked, mostly uninterrupted but a few times people would rudely encroach in his territory. Usually couples, filling his home with boxes and furniture, nothing ever familiar, nothing he recognized.

They were trying to take his house! It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t confront them, not outright. He’d tried once and recieved no response other than the person saying they felt a chill. So he had to get creative. He’d move their stuff around, sometimes just placing it somewhere else, other times ridding them of it altogether. He thumped the walls when they tried to sleep, scratched at the stairs to the basement when they were alone doing laundry. If that wasn’t enough he’d break their pictures, sometimes their mirrors.

Usually that would be the last straw and they’d pack up and leave him alone again. He’d get a few months to himself until the annoying woman who constantly brought the new people would show up again. The new man was here, just him apparently. He was big and kind of buff, dark brown hair and scruff, laughing off the lady’s warnings. He would clearly be tough to get rid of.

The dark-haired man moved in a while later. It wasn’t until the man fell asleep and their dreams seemed to sync, that either of them actually realized of the other's presence. The big oaf had so rudely intruded that it was clear it had to be all or nothing with him from the get go. So the scaring started immediately. Slowly, like always, moving things and thumping walls, but he was given no grace period, just constant haunting. 

It worked at the start, the noises and dreams clearly got to the man, but slowly he stopped responding. Clearly something more had to be done. So he'd do it. After much thought, he found an old white sheet, left carelessly in the linen closet by one of the previous tenants he'd scared away. Waiting patiently, after a while the man came back from somewhere, stumbling straight to his bed and falling asleep instantly. 

The time was now. Pulling the sheet on, he was half surprised to see it actually hang on him, sometimes objects got a bit... intangible. With it covering him, he crouched, just in front of where the buff man was sleeping, so he'd be the first thing he saw when he woke up. Surely that would be enough of a shock to get him to move out. Hours passed and finally there was movement. Eyes suddenly opened and it was clear the half-awake man wasn't sure what the hell he was looking at.

But no fear. A hand jutted out and grabbed the sheet, tugging it down. Eyes met eyes and utter shock and confusion ran through him, staring straight back at the man on the bed. And just as quickly as he woke up, he fell asleep again. With no one to see him anymore, he ran and hid himself, having an inner breakdown over what just happened.

No one had ever seen him before. Not like that. He wasn't sure if he'd actually really been seen, but it felt like it. Like their eyes connected, like for once, he wasn't looked straight through. And that was terrifying.

\---

Since that night, around a week had passed and Dan had no more ghostly run ins. His dreams were normal, nothing was misplaced, in fact nothing seemed out of the ordinary at all. Except for the sheet which he clearly remembered pulling off of someone. Someone who wasn't fully there. It was the man from his dreams, with the jumpsuit and the cracked glasses, and the curly hair. But that was the last he'd seen of him, till tonight.

As he fell asleep he fell into a more than familiar dream sequence, right outside of his 'house' as he had been so many times before. Wary, he slowly opened it, jolting in surprise when he was greeted face to face by the man. He stumbled back before putting on a defensive pose, the other man looking a little distressed.

"Wait, wait! I don't wanna scare you, I'm sorry! C... can we talk?"

It'd been weeks since he heard the man's voice say anything other than curses, so Dan was understandably a bit put off. Eyeing the strange man, he lowered his fists slightly.

"Talk?"

"Yeah. It's... it's been a while since I've gotten someone to actually not be scared of me. So can we talk? Please?"

Dan softened a little, swayed by the surprisingly innocent look the other had, relaxing fully and nodding.

"Alright, let's talk. So, what are you?"

The innocent face scrunched up instantly, scowling at him and walking inside a bit, flopping on the couch inside. Dan followed, taking a hesitant seat in an armchair nearby.

"I'm a fucking ghost, asshole. Obviously. Or I'm pretty sure I am, I mean from what I remember this is kinda how ghosts worked or something."

"A ghost... yeah, I guess that's the only explanation really, huh? The Realtor said this place was haunted, but I never really believed in that sort of thing."

"Yeah... it feels hard to believe even when you are one, believe me."

Silence came over them and they were both a bit deep in their own thoughts. This was a first for both of them, and it was really important.

"Do you remember anything? Like from when you were alive?"

Dan looked at the man, watching him fidget anxiously. It was insane to think he was actually talking to a ghost right now. Of course this could all be an elaborate dream his brain cooked up for him but the more they spoke the more real the man sitting on the couch felt.

"I remember little things. I remember what my house looked like, obviously. I remember little random things, like I like Banjo Kazooie, and I had two brothers. I was from... New Jersey I think, and I was an electrician."

"An electrician! That must explain your clothing, but does that mean... Do you remember how you died?"

The curly-haired man thought about it for a moment then shrugged slightly.

"Occupational hazard I guess."

Dan swallowed, feeling a bit bad for asking. They grew silent again as Dan mulled over the new information before piping up again.

"Wait, did you say New Jersey?! How did you get to England?!"

"Oh yeah! Well my memory is sort of shitty, but as far back as I can recall being like this, I think I just sort of... floated over. I stayed in my house for a long time but then I kept seeing my family coming by to box up my stuff so I left. And then I forgot where it was. So I've just been sort of going around, finding houses that remind me of my own and staying there for a while. This one really fits so I've been here a long time."

From there the two started to talk about everything and anything. The topics seemed limitless, the curly-haired ghost was eager to learn what was new about the world, before this he hadn't had much interest. And Dan was of course fascinated in what it was like to be a ghost, asking all about it. He found that ghosts, or at least this one, slept for a few hours for seemingly no reason. But in his dreams he could manipulate them how he pleased, which is why he made it look like his old home. He also found that just as movies always pictured them, he could phase through walls and float, and interact with real life objects, though that seemed to vary randomly.

"Ah, you're going to wake up soon. I can feel it."

Dan frowned at the statement, a bit disappointed at their time ending. The other smiled, and Dan was still surprised at just how kind and normal it seemed.

"It's alright, we'll meet again tomorrow night. And though you can't see me, I'm usually there during the day."

"Alright... Oh, I just realized, we haven't exchanged names! I'm Dan."

He waited eagerly for a moment before panicking and realizing he may have made a mistake, considering how the ghost wasn't replying.

"Oh lord, I'm sorry, do you remember your name? That was terrible of me, I should've thought that out."

A laugh, it sounded bright and sent a little shiver through Dan, along with relief.

"No, it's okay. I just haven't been asked that... in a very, very long time. I'd almost forgotten, actually. My name is Michael."


	3. Chapter 3

Since their first proper talk, Michael and Dan had begun to build up a bit of a rapport together. They talked about anything and everything, learned all they could about each other. Through some testing, they figured out just how much Michael could do in the real world. He could pick up most things, though sometimes his hand would just pass right through them. But he could pick up a pencil, and actually make it write, which was phenomenal, or so Dan said.

Despite what Michael had originally thought, Dan could not see him in the real world whatsoever. He could see the pencil or cup Michael would pick up, but thin air all around it. But it was okay, so long as they could still see each other in their dreams. He tried to cover himself with a sheet again, and though he could intially grab it, it phased right through him as he tried to cover himself. A few more tries went by before he realized it only seemed to work with the old sheet he'd used originally. Michael was almost happy Dan couldn't see him at that moment, the stupidly ecstatic smile he had when Dan cheered in excitement over it finally working.

"I can't believe this, so surreal. I know you're there, and your silhouette's here, but if I peek under the sheet, not a thing!"

The larger man stepped forward, putting a hand out to feel the sheet-covered body. It felt solid at first, but if he pressed forward his hand would just end up pushing the sheet in, nothing behind it. He put his hand to one of Michael's letting them press together before loosely lacing their fingers. It amazed them both how it worked rather well, the sheet speading and showing the outlines of fingers. But when Dan squeezed down he was left with nothing but a handful of fabric, letting go and sighing.

"This is amazing."

Michael felt a little breathless, funny considering he hadn't actually breathed for as long as he could recall. He responded, even though the only one who would hear him was himself.

"Yeah."

\---

If there was one thing that Michael had learned from being able to communicate with Dan, it was that he was surprisingly lonely. It never really phased him before meeting Dan, he just watched other people go on with their lives with the same amount of interest one might with a documentary. It was interesting, but he didn't feel the need to get himself into it somehow, unless he absolutely had to.

But being able to talk with someone, to laugh with someone, seeing Dan smile or crack up at something he said while they were dreaming together, he'd forgotten how good it felt. It was a little sad that he could only share that with Dan, but lately he didn't care so much. The man was kind and funny, handsome and charistmatic, if not a bit dumb. Michael found himself appreciating every aspect of him, perhaps a bit too much.

Even Michael himself hadn't realized just how much he started to like Dan, until the man brought someone home. He'd seen the other man there before, pretty sure his name was Gavin. A bit of trailing showed that the man lived only a block away, so he was a constant visitor once Dan got settled. Sometimes he and Dan would stay in for a night and play video games and drink, sometimes they went out to do who knows what. Michael didn't really like him, so he usually holed himself up wherever they weren't, unhappy to see Dan enjoying himself with other people.

But that night, they had come in late. Michael could hear their quiet giggles and stumbling, it was clear they'd been out drinking. He'd expected them to pass out rather soon, maybe Gavin would empty his stomach first, but instead he was unpleasantly surprised to see them both heading to the bedroom. Phasing through the wall, Michael floated in to see what was happening, feeling his throat tighten at the scene below him.

Dan and Gavin were in bed. Sloppy kisses and clothing tossed every which way. Tan limbs tangled together and little drunk giggles echoing off the walls as Dan caressed Gavin's neck with kisses. Michael wished he could throw up. He couldn't believe this was happening, had he only been imagining the closeness between him and Dan? Did the other not feel for him as he did? Obviously not, if he'd kiss someone like this, in his home, where he knew Michael could see.

Perhaps it was a lapse of judgement, considering they were both rather plastered, but that didn't register to Michael for a second, his anger and upset flooding him. Like hell he would see this go down in his house. Searching until he found his sheet, he pulled it on and floated overhead. Gavin and Dan had switched places, the lankier with his back on the bed as Dan explored his body lovingly. Gavin, who'd had his eyes closed in bliss, opened them only to shriek in terror, confused and terrified at the ghostly image just a few feet above his head.

"A ghost! Bloody hell, it's a ghost, Dan!" 

"What, oh god, no wait-"

But it was too late, Gavin was shrieking and shouting, hurriedly grabbing his clothes, stumbling to the door as he tried to redress himself before busting out and running for his home. Dan had gotten up too, watching as the man tripped and stumbled his way back home. He slammed his door once he was sure Gavin got in safe, stomping into the bedroom.

"Michael! What the fuck was that? How dare you scare Gavin!"

The figure moved a bit, Michael picking up a pen and pad Dan left on his nightstand so they could communicate.

'How dare you do that here, more like.'

Dan tensed, grabbing the pad and tossing it at the sheet, the whole thing crumpling to the floor as Michael got away. There was the sound of books clattering to the floor and a mess being made in the living room, but Dan just fell back onto his bed.

"Yeah make a mess, like the fucking child you are!"

A loud shattering almost got him up, but he pointedly refused to indulge Michael's anger, instead slowly falling asleep. When he, as always, found himself in front of the house, he hurriedly stormed in, where Michael was waiting, sulking on the couch.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I bring home one friend, literally one, and you scare him away!"

"It's your own fucking fault! How could you fucking kiss him like that, right in front of me?! That's so fucked up!"

"You didn't have to watch, I know you can leave the house! It's my house, Michael, and if I want to make out with a bloke in it I damn well will."

Though he was technically no longer drunk in his head, his mind was clouded and his judgement still impaired, only helping to make Dan more angry than he initially was. The two were shouting desperately, both up and pacing the room now, unable to stay still.

"It's not about seeing it! It's about you doing it at all! I thought you liked me, Dan. I liked you."

The confession stilled him for a moment, before words burst out of him without a second thought.

"Like me? You like me? Bullshit, you made my life a living hell for the first month I lived here! You're nothing more than a pest!"

Michael froze, eyes wide and hurt. Dan stilled too, but he still looked angry, and not all that regretful of what he said. The curly-haired man's face scrunched up with hurt, floating to the bathroom and locking himself in. Dan rolled his eyes, storming out of the house and off into the void of his dreams, unable to deal with the tempermental ghost right now.

But he wasn't wrong. Not to Michael anyways. He could recall over a dozen times that he'd scared Dan, all the things he'd broken or thrown away, all the sleeping pills Dan had taken in an effort to have a dreamless sleep and not see the terrifying ghoul who'd been haunting his dreams. He was a pest. And Dan didn't need a pest.

\---

The next morning, as Dan got up and cleaned up all that Michael had broken the night before, he was mulling over what had happened. His dreams were a bit fuzzy, mind clouded with hangover and confusion. He remembered Michael scaring Gavin, and arguing with Michael in the dream, but he couldn't remember everything they'd said. Once he'd cleaned up, he headed out to see Gavin and do some damage control.

The moment he left the house, Michael floated into the bedroom. He looked around for the pad Dan had thrown at him, finding it picked up and back on the nightstand where it was meant to be. He wrote a quick note, grabbing his sheet and folding it up, a neat and tidy square atop Dan's bed, the note atop it. With it in place, he floated up and out, heading off and making a point to not look back.

Dan came back about an hour later, having convinced Gavin that whatever he'd seen had been a drunken hallucination, and that they had done nothing out of the ordinary. It'd been a bit of a mistake to do that, at least while drunk. After a bit of thinking he was actually a little grateful that Michael had stopped them, if they'd gone any further it would've changed everything. And knowing Gavin, the man would've put up all his walls and hid away in regret after. Like this they could actually talk about it and possibly try again, but only because Michael had stopped them before.

After a bit more thought, tending to Gavin as his hangover struck hard, he began to recall their argument during his dreams. More specifically, what he'd said to Michael. He paled a bit recalling it, immediate guilt and regret washing over him. Michael had confessed to him, the only human who ever listened to him and talked to him, and Dan had called him a pest. He had to fix it. As soon as he could, he left Gavin's, hurrying back home.

"Michael? You in? I know it's late but I'm so sorry for what I said to you last night! You aren't a pest, you're fantastic and you're my friend! I hope you'll forgive me."

He wandered through the tiny house, looking for any inkling of the ghost and finding nothing. The last room was the bedroom, and he popped his head in with hopes high.

"Michael?"

There was no ghost, instead, as he walked in he saw the old white sheets Michael had worn folded on the bed, with a note on top.

'I'm sorry. I won't be a pest anymore.'


	4. Chapter 4

When Michael left Dan's house, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He floated as far off as he could, until he was crossing water, lots of water, and found himself in somewhat familiar places. A huge city, one of the most famous in the world, NYC, or so a few signs told him. He holed up in some apartments, working out his frustrations with a little haunting, terrorizing each flat one by one. But something important happened there. He realized he wasn't alone.

On the tenth floor of a high rise, he found him. A ghost like him. He looked around the same age, maybe a little younger, with glasses and a wispy beard and dark hair. He looked shockingly human, had he not been floating just over a man's shoulder, peeking as the other wrote. Michael stayed at the doorway, shocked. When he could, he finally spoke up.

"Hey!"

The other ghost jolted in sudden shock, head turning to see Michael and looking just as gobsmacked as the other. The man showed no sign of hearing him, which was to be expected after all. The other ghost froze for a moment before hurriedly floating over, popping up right in front of Michael's face, looking angry and clearly finding him suspicious.

"Who are you?!"

"My name is Michael, who're -"

"If you're here to haunt this guy you better leave right fucking now!"

Michael suddenly got it. He was watching over the human, coexisting like he had with Dan. He smiled, a little sadly and shook his head.

"Nah, I wasn't gonna. I was just checking out all the apartments here. I'll leave, sorry to bother you guys."

"Wait!"

The other tugged at his worksuit, making Michael face him again just as he'd gone to leave. The ghost looked a little embarrassed now, perhaps guilty too.

"S-Sorry, I overreacted. I'm Ray. Can we talk? You're the first... person like me I've met."

"Same."

The two spent the next few hours just talking about everything and anything they could, their stories, their lives and afterlives, and the humans they'd accidentally found themselves falling for as they watched them live. Michael stayed there for a while, both of them happy for the company of someone who could hear them, eventually leaving the two be, promising to visit again someday.

He floated anywhere and everywhere, traveling all over, eventually heading back to Europe and traveling throughout it. He met a few more ghosts here and there, some he could speak with, a couple who spoke Italian or German but they communicated how they could. It was a nice little relief to know that even then, he wasn't fully alone. 

It was a few years before he felt like he could handle going back to England. He'd been thinking about it a lot, about Dan and what had happened since he left. So he went. Went back to that little house that was so familiar to his own and floated right in. It was surprisingly similar to how it'd been when he left, but some key things were missing. The shelves and cabinets were mostly empty, little things still here and there. The TV was gone, as was most of the appliances, not much left but the basic furniture. 

He moved. Not surprising, Michael would've too if it'd been him. Still, he wandered the house slowly, moving from room to room, the bedroom last. As he phased through the bedroom door he froze instantly, eyes going wide. Dan was there, sitting at his desk fiddling with a pencil. He looked almost the same as he had when Michael had left, but he was in his army uniform, minus his beret. It took the curly-haired ghost only a moment to realize what happened.

Letting out a little choked sound, Michael would've been fully crying if his tear ducts still worked. The sound was enough, Dan looking over and beaming instantly at the sight of Michael.

"I knew if I waited long enough you'd come back. I'm so happy to see you, Michael."

He got up, floating over slowly and hugging Michael tightly, the other dry sobbing into his arms. Dan just held him, rubbing his back lovingly until he calmed down enough to speak.

"W-What happened?"

He didn't really need to ask but he needed the truth. Dan smiled sadly and shrugged a little.

"Occupational hazard."

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song Ghosting by Mother Mother


End file.
